


Without Her

by westwinds



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: Angst, Breakup, F/F, Lesbian Drama, One Night Stands, Wayhaught endgame
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-06
Updated: 2017-08-01
Packaged: 2018-11-28 15:11:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11420583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/westwinds/pseuds/westwinds
Summary: "She'd been top of her class at the Justice Institute, with great exam scores, and a real chance to work her way up on the force in the city where people would take her seriously. Instead, she'd taken this job in the cold-as-hell boonies. Purgatory had to be, she thought, one of the smallest towns in the country that had its own Police Department instead of relying on the RCMP for enforcement. Probably because of the demons."Her first glimpse of Waverly had been like a promise. She hadn't been here long, but long enough to have learned that the lone wolf lifestyle wasn't for her. A few weeks or a month away from women, and one look at that smile had turned her heart over in her chest."Post-WayHaught breakup. Nicole laments her decision to come to Purgatory over a few too many at Shorty's, and ends up in a very steamy situation, before trying to renegotiate her relationship with Waverly. Some smut, some angst, some drama, lots of emotional processing. Finished.





	1. Everything but the Cat

**Author's Note:**

> This story arose out of an evening spent with some Earper friends over a few too many beers, during which I expressed that I feel Nicole and Waverly's relationship is a bit saccharine and shallow. I decided to write a Wayhaught story that echoes a more authentic experience of dating as a lesbian, and how messy and emotional it can get. It's quite speculative. I hope you like it.
> 
> This story was started after the airing of episode 204, She Ain't Right.

Elbows on the bar, Nicole scowled into her empty glass. Shorty's was particularly loud this evening, and she was having none of it. Besides, she'd finished her beer.

"Another one?" someone asked. Nicole flapped her hand absently, and continued to stew while she waited for her next drink to arrive. Why the hell'd she even come to this backwater town? It had seemed like such a good idea at the time. Her last breakup had been a bad one; they'd shared everything - an apartment, the cat, their friends. After months of a dead sex life and increasingly passive-aggressive treatment of one another, they'd finally called it quits, and everyone - all of Nicole's long-term friends, everyone she knew in the city - had to pick sides. Nicole wasn't sure what her ex had said, how she'd been portrayed as the sole villain in the whole scenario, but somehow it'd turned out that she'd lost her home, her furniture, her Vita-Mix, _and_ all her damn friends.

At least the ex let her keep the cat.

"House ale," the bartender said, setting down the pint glass hard enough that beer sloshed over the side.

"Thanks," Nicole mumbled, sullenly drawing on the bar with her fingertips in spilled beer. She'd been vulnerable, that's what'd happened. Alone and lonely, angry and heartbroken, and then Nedley's recruitment offer had come in. She hadn't even taken a minute to look at a map before accepting. A new town, a province over, where she knew no-one and could just do her damn job and not worry about matters of the heart. The idea of cutting and running, building a new life and a new self, was pretty enticing. Maybe she'd become a lone wolf and learn to ride a motorcycle or something.

She'd been top of her class at the Justice Institute, with great exam scores, and a real chance to work her way up on the force in the city where people would take her seriously. Instead, she'd taken this job in the cold-as-hell boonies. Purgatory had to be, she thought, one of the smallest towns in the country that had its own Police Department instead of relying on the RCMP for enforcement. Probably because of the demons.

Her first glimpse of Waverly had been like a promise. She hadn't been here long, but long enough to have learned that the lone wolf lifestyle wasn't for her. A few weeks or a month away from women, and one look at that smile had turned her heart over in her chest. She took a long swig of her beer; a drop or three spilled on to the collar of the sweater she'd hastily pulled over her uniform shirt after a too-long day at the precinct.

It's always easy to be confident when you don't think there's a chance in hell. Just flirt a little with the straight girls to keep yourself entertained, she'd thought. Yeah, sure. Great idea.

Small town, small minds. Waverly had been such a breath of fresh air. Sass, sunshine, and that beautiful brain - not to mention her tight abs. Something to fixate on, just a little. Something other than work to fill her time. The police work was really pretty boring anyway - drunk guys peeing on buildings, neighbours parking in front of each other's driveways out of spite, and the occasional jaywalker just to keep things interesting. Waverly was a break from all that. A little crush to keep her occupied.

Nicole had never expected it to go anywhere. She'd never expected that adorable, hilarious little vixen to question her whole world and commit to dating some redheaded cop from out of town. Hell, they'd still barely known each other when Waverly'd come out to her sister and then they were already in so deep. Sure, Nicole had started it - she'd been too excited about the unlikeliness of this, about the ray of sunshine in her otherwise-grey life. She'd certainly been guilty of getting drawn in to a relationship too quickly before, but she should've guessed that Waverly – the girl who'd spent her whole life trying to be what she thought people wanted – would do the same thing to her.

Draining her beer, Nicole cringed a little, thinking of Waverly's baby talk, her cutesy mannerisms, the way she'd picked up on calling Nicole "baby". Nicole had always _hated_ being called "baby", but hell, Nicole'd said it first.

She pushed her empty pint glass away and looked around for the bartender. It was that cute girl with the long dark hair and the eyes - what was her name? Rosie or something. Rose. Rosita! That was it. Doc was there, behind the bar, chatting with someone else, but Nicole couldn't catch his attention. She wanted another beer and there was no-one available to pour her one. Her scowl deepened.

She'd really tried to make it work with Waverly. The girl was stunning, and athletic, and so magnetic. Utterly lovable in every way. A real girl-next-door prom queen type, with this undeniable sexiness and comfort in her body that, when she could flip the switch, lit Nicole up like a pinball machine. The first time she'd called Nicole "girlfriend", and Nicole'd gotten the feeling that this was really happening, this wasn't just some straight girl experimenting - it'd taken her breath away. She'd been so damn excited. But the cloying sweetness, the cotton-candy cuteness, had become too much. At first it'd been alright - in the way that early on in a relationship, things come across as cute and quirky; but as time wore on it'd become a major turn-off. It hadn't felt... real.

And the frustrating thing was that it wasn't like it was all the time. It ebbed and flowed. Sometimes Waverly was baby-talking and pouting, and then other times she was a bombshell, a femme fatale, swinging her hips in a cheerleading uniform without any panties on, leaving Nicole uncomfortably warm before a long shift.

Nicole had a theory that Waverly had previously only dated moron guys who had never respected her mind, and so she'd just had no other way to relate to people she dated. She had no experience with it. After all, she'd been devastatingly attractive to Nicole - exactly Nicole's type: smart, fit, sexy and so damn aware of it - but then she'd started calling her those cloying pet names. " _My best baby"_. Ugh. Everything about it had just been so _awkward_ … so unnatural and forced. Like Waverly was trying to reconfigure her own identity too fast, with too much else going on in her life, pushing square pegs into round holes and telling everyone it fit just fine.

Or maybe Waverly just didn't know how to relate to another woman.

There she was, finally! The bartender. Rosita. She was lugging a keg from the direction of some storeroom, hauling it behind the bar, her sleeveless shirt revealing muscular arms. Strong as hell, this bartender. She was glistening a little from the exertion. Nicole watched her work for a moment, appreciating the light playing off her skin, and the practiced way she moved behind the bar - no unnecessary movements, everything efficient and confident. Nicole gave her head a shake and waved her down. "Rosita!"

Rosita looked up from where she was tapping the keg, and then over to Doc, who was still engrossed in chatting with some young woman at the bar. She shook her head, annoyed. "Yeah. One sec."

"Another ale, please," Nicole said when the bartender stood, and Rosita gave her a little half smile, wiping her hands on her apron.

"Don't you think you've had enough?"

Nicole let out a big sigh. "I've had three beers—"

"Four," Rosita interjected, raising an eyebrow.

"Okay, four, and I'm having a real shitty day. You have no idea."

"Try me," Rosita said, leaning forward with her elbows on the bar, her gaze warm and direct, her eyes on Nicole's. "I've seen you at my bar nearly every day for the last two weeks." She gestured toward the keg she'd just changed. "All you, I'm pretty sure. What's eating you?"

"Um," Nicole started, uncomfortably aware of Rosita's nearness and warmth. She had suddenly become aware of a slight spicy scent, as well - like cinnamon and clove.

"Let me guess," Rosita offered. "Breakup?"

Nicole sighed again, in that resigned "you got me" way, and threw her hands up. "So sue me if I'm drowning my sorrows a bit. I don't have to work tomorrow. Let me have this one."

Rosita gave a short laugh. "Girl, I get it. Okay, one more, but it's on the house, so it's my choice."

Rosita moved away with a sway of her hips, and reached up to grab a couple of bottles off a shelf behind the bar. She put them down on the bar in front of Nicole - an Irish whiskey and an unlabeled bottle with a cloudy green liquid in it.

Nicole raised her glance to the bartender's. "What's this?"

"It's my trick for a shitty day. I've never had one of these and then gone on to have a bad night. They're a little bit magic." She grabbed four shot glasses and placed them down on the bar beside the bottles, her hands moving over the glassware confidently. Nicole watched her pour them out - two shots from the Irish whiskey bottle, and two from the mystery bottle. As soon as the liquid streamed out from the bottle, Nicole got the distinct scent of pickles.

"Is that pickle juice?" she asked, incredulous. Rosita gave her a little wink and passed two shots over to her - one of each.

"The whiskey first," she said, tapping the shot with her fingertip, "and then the pickle juice. I know it sounds gross, but you've got to trust me."

Nicole grimaced a little, but in good humour, and raised her whiskey shot. Rosita tapped her glass against Nicole's and smiled at her. "Bottoms up!"

The whiskey created a little fire on Nicole's tongue and in her throat - it wasn't good stuff, just the cheap well whiskey. Mirroring Rosita, she followed it immediately with the shot of pickle juice, bracing herself to make a face. Surprisingly, however, it mellowed out the fire of the whiskey, and brought out the caramel notes in the cheap liquor. She must have looked as astonished as she felt.

"It's good, right?" Rosita used her tongue to get the last little bit of pickle juice out of the shot glass and then placed it down on the bar, her fingertips sliding along the glass. Nicole watched it happen, and then looked up, distracted by Rosita's mouth, wet from the drink. "Now," the bartender continued, "the rule is that you can't have a shitty night. No more frowning. Once you've had a pickleback you have to have fun."

Nicole looked around with a short laugh, at the drunk young men playing pool, the group of middle-aged women flailing uncoordinatedly to the music in a little space they'd carved out as a dance floor, the old guys drinking themselves into a stupor in the corner. "Which lucky new friends should I start my excellent night with, do you think?"

Nicole could have sworn Rosita's answering smile was a little devilish. "Are those your only options?"

Nicole laughed and stood, swaying just slightly, and Rosita rounded the bar, making a show of steadying Nicole with a hand on her hip. Suddenly they were very near each other, and Nicole was a little drunk. As sometimes happened in these moments when she thought she didn't have a chance in hell, something slipped out. "Well, if I have to have fun… _You_ seem like fun."

Rosita's hand moved up to the small of her back, and Nicole leaned in, brushing the front of her body against Rosita's. She flicked her eyes between Rosita's dark, rich gaze and her full mouth, and Rosita's breath came a little fast and shallow. It had only been a second or two, but Rosita bit her lip, looked over her shoulder to make sure Doc was still working the bar, and said, "My place is just around the corner."

***

They crashed, breathless, through the front door, Rosita blindly groping for the light switch, keys in hand, without coming up for air. They devoured each other, Rosita's teeth pulling Nicole's lip, the kisses hard and hungry. Nicole pushed Rosita's coat off her shoulders and on to the floor, baring her shoulders, her throat, the swell of her breasts above the low cut of her shirt. She wrapped one arm around Rosita's waist, pulling her in; Nicole ran her other hand through Rosita's hair, gripping her at the base of her skull and tilting her head back, grazing her teeth over Rosita's throat and kissing her collarbone, her sternum, grazing her mouth over the exposed flesh of her breasts.

Rosita was moving them backwards, into the apartment, and they tripped over the edges of rugs and discarded shoes, not taking their hands or mouths off of each other. Rosita pulled Nicole's sweater up and over her head, mussing her hair and breaking the contact of their mouths for the smallest moment, and then her hands were busy with Nicole's buttons, impatiently pulling each one open as Nicole's mouth traveled down the front of her body.

Finally shrugging out of the sleeves of her shirt, Nicole slid her hands up Rosita's tank top and over her taut belly, pushing it off of her. She snapped off Rosita's bra in one quick movement - some black demi-cup thing, of course, unerringly sexy - to reveal her breasts, and her mouth found them as her hands kept moving down. Nicole grabbed Rosita by the hips and pushed up her skirt, pulling her in and pushing her own thigh between Rosita's legs, her fingers questing between Rosita's thighs, finding her warmth and wetness. Rosita pulled them backwards to tumble on to her unmade bed.

***

Nicole awoke to the prairie winter sun streaming pale yellow and harsh through the window. She raised her hand and blinked sleepily as it blinded her, aware of a pounding headache rattling around in her skull. Her mouth was dry and tasted like a brewery. She groaned and rolled over, her eyes still half-closed, groping for her phone. She nearly fell out of the unfamiliar bed before realizing she wasn't at her own apartment.

Oh. Oh shit. Right. The bartender.

Rosita, with the salty skin, the softly swelling breasts, the tiny waist. Her thighs on Nicole's shoulders, the feel of the knit of her high socks against Nicole's collarbone. Her strong back, the way it arched as Nicole had run fingers down her spine, her hand busy between Rosita's legs. Grinning stupidly at the memory of exceptional sex, Nicole searched the floor and found her phone in the puddle of her work khakis. Two messages.

"Had to work - thx for last night! Leave the key in the mailbox. CU around. xoxo - P.S. You didn't pay for your beers"

Well, shit, looks like she'd at least gotten a phone number.

And then the next message. Her heart rose to her throat and her stomach, already roiling, dropped to her knees. Waverly.

"I miss you. Can we talk?"


	2. Rows and Floes of Angel Hair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post-WayHaught breakup, Nicole and Waverly navigate their feelings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to my partner for her immeasurable help with multiple emotional perspectives.

"I miss you. Can we talk?"

It had been two days since Waverly's text. Nicole had read it probably 40 times, but still hadn't responded. They hadn't talked - and had been studiously avoiding each other - for nearly three weeks now, ever since Nicole had broken things off. Nearly three weeks, but it felt like three miserable years. It didn't help that the sun went down at four in the afternoon this time of year.

Nicole typed out another response, her fifth of the morning, and then deleted it, also for the fifth time that day. It was probably about time for her to admit to herself that she was a bit depressed. She was also incredibly hungry, but it was so much effort to get out of bed and eat - what? Instant oatmeal? It just didn't seem worth it.

She wanted to see Waverly. That was obvious. Her first thought before going anywhere - work, grocery shopping, the liquor store, work - was what her chances of running into Waverly were. She was both terrified and excited at the prospect. It was bound to happen eventually, what with Waverly working out of the station, even with Nicole pursuing every assignment possible that would take her out of Black Badge's way.

Pulling a pillow over her face, Nicole groaned and made the decision. Text Waverly back, then immediately go shower and eat and ignore her phone so she wasn't waiting for a response, wasn't noticing exactly how long it took for her to write back. She knew already that she was in danger of becoming her Most Pathetic Self. She sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed.

"Sure. Coffee?" she typed and hit SEND before she could reconsider, letting out a mirthless laugh. She'd deleted paragraph-long texts full of ellipses and feelings, ones with absolutely no chill - and the one she ended up sending came across as if she didn't care at all.

The response came immediately.

"Are you free today? Shorty's?"

Shit. That was probably a bad idea. The night before she'd gotten Waverly's text, Nicole'd been at Shorty's, drinking too much, and had gone home with the bartender. That could potentially, possibly be a teeny bit awkward. But where else could you get a damn coffee in this town?

"How about that diner instead?" Nicole suggested.

"Their coffee is terrible, and Shorty's is closer to your place," Waverly wrote back.

Shit. Nicole really, really didn't want to go to Shorty's.

"Yeah, but everything weird in this town happens at Shorty's." That was undeniably true. "Diner at 2pm?"

Waverly agreed and Nicole flopped back into bed with a sigh. What would she wear?

***

Nicole arrived at the diner at 2:07. She was normally a very prompt person, and in fact had sat outside in her car for ten minutes before coming in so she wouldn't seem too eager. She knew it was stupid, but she'd done it anyway.

Waverly was seated in a booth, facing the door, so she saw Nicole come in. A smile lit up Waverly's face and Nicole felt her heart expand in her chest. She let out a long breath at the door and then slid in across from her.

"Hey."

"Hey, you," Waverly said. Her coat was still buttoned up and her hands were wrapped around a steaming mug. "Thanks for coming."

"You're still wearing your coat," Nicole observed, raising an eyebrow. Waverly's coat was buttoned up to her chin, her honey-coloured hair half-tucked into the collar.

"You know me," Waverly smiled.

"I do," Nicole agreed, shortly. She took off her work-issue cold weather gloves and placed them on the table. They weren't fashionable, but you took what you could get in this climate. Unless you were Waverly.

Waverly raised the steaming mug to her face, but didn't sip - she just let the steam defrost her face. "How've you been?" she asked Nicole, affecting nonchalance. Two and a half weeks was a long time when you were used to talking to someone every day, and anything could happen in that span of time in Purgatory.

The truth was, Nicole hadn't been great. Binge-drinking, difficulty getting out of bed, a one-night stand… certainly not her proudest moments. However, conscious of trying to keep the upper hand, she simply replied, "I've been fine… working a lot."

"Yeah, I've hardly seen you around the station - oh, hi Shannon! Long time no see!" Waverly turned and greeted the waitress brightly.

"Waverly," the waitress greeted her back, none too warmly. She turned to Nicole. "What can I get you?"

"A cappuccino would be great."

"Anything else?"

"No, that's it, thanks." Nicole could swear she saw the waitress roll her eyes as she walked away - she'd probably been hoping they'd order more.

Waverly leaned in and pitched her voice low, her eyes following the waitress. "I'm surprised you chose this place, honestly," she said to Nicole conspiratorially. "The coffee's been absolute shit ever since my sister killed everyone who worked here."

Nicole laughed humourlessly. "Of course… they were Rev-" Nicole stopped herself from announcing it at regular volume, and lowered her voice, "…Revenants, weren't they?"

Waverly shrugged. "Who isn't, in this town?"

Nicole had to admit that sometimes it certainly felt like everyone was either a demon, an ally to demons, or a chosen one sent to fight the demons. It was bloody tiring. She didn't want to talk about it. "The coffee isn't that bad. What's-her-face's latte art kind of resembled a cloud the other day." Nicole offered generously. "Like… an abstract idea of a cloud."

Waverly gave a half-smile but didn't say anything; the silence stretched for a few awkward seconds.

Nicole blurted "So you wanted to talk?" just as Waverly started, "So I wanted to say…"

They both laughed uncomfortably. Nicole waved her hand to suggest that Waverly go ahead.

"Look. I've been thinking, and I guess I just wanted to say… that I think you're right."

"You do?" Nicole raised her eyebrows.

"Yes. I — oh, thank you," Waverly said as the waitress dropped Nicole's something-like-a-cappuccino on the table with a bit less grace than one might expect. She leaned over and looked at it. "Oh yeah. Clouds. This one looks like a narwhal. If you saw a cloud shaped this way, you might think, 'that could be a narwhal'."

Nicole cocked her head to the side. She couldn't really see it - unless – maybe… oh, there was the horn, and that smudge could be its fish body.

"Anyway," Waverly continued. "I think… as much as it sucked, you were right to break up with me. What you said about me not really being there… I think that was true. I was biting off more than I could chew. I'm a chronic overachiever - I know, you're floored - but I was trying to do a million things at once and do them all perfectly. All of that, while dealing with the reappearance and death of my sister, those strange blackouts I was having, this town being batshit crazy… and then…"

Waverly paused, and Nicole said, gently, "And then, coming out and being with a woman for the first time?"

"Yeah," Waverly said, looking down. "It was more complicated than I expected. I don't know what I was thinking. I thought, I like this person, so I'll just act as if this is totally normal and not earth-shattering at all. I think I'd even convinced myself that it was no big deal. I… I think I wasn't dealing with my feelings at all. I was just trying to be what I thought you wanted… I was trying to do things the 'right' way, without really understanding what that was."

"No kidding," Nicole's comment was dry and a bit uncharitable. Throughout their courtship and relationship, Waverly had been hot and cold - sexy and sweet and affectionate one minute, and then pushing her away the next. Nicole had never felt safe. Even the wonderful moments had been tempered with the expectation that at any point, something could happen and she'd be left behind again, wondering what was happening, worrying about Waverly, totally frozen out. And even the wonderful moments were… weird. They felt forced, inauthentic, like Waverly was just playing at what a relationship was supposed to look like.

It hadn't felt good. It had made Nicole angry, passive-aggressive, paranoid. Not a good look.

Waverly looked down and frowned with a little twist of her mouth, struggling a little with what she wanted to say next, and Nicole's heart, hardened in her anger, melted in her chest. Even angry at Waverly, she hated seeing her upset.

"I have a lot to learn about how to be in a relationship, and before I can do that, I have a lot to learn about me. For a long time, things were easy and normal in Purgatory. It was me and Gus and Curtis, and I had friends, and a job, and a boyfriend. I had a normal, boring life. Then Wynonna came back and everything changed. And then I met you. And things just haven't slowed down since then.

"I… I have a lot of things to deal with right now," Waverly said. "I'm not saying that I'm good, now that I've realized all of this stuff. In fact, I think I'm just beginning to deal with all of this. But I miss you. I want to see you more than… well, more than never."

Nicole looked down at her hands. She didn't trust herself wholly around Waverly, which is why she'd been avoiding her for the last few weeks. The girl made her weak in the knees, and knew exactly how to pull each of her strings. But it was exhausting trying to avoid her, and as much as it frustrated her, seeing Waverly right now had set Nicole's glum spirits to soaring.

"Okay," Nicole began, and Waverly broke into a smile. She continued, "Maybe we could stop avoiding each other around the station."

Waverly's smile faltered a bit. "Yeah, and maybe we could stop being late on purpose."

Nicole grimaced a little. Was she that obvious?

"Come on, Officer Stopwatch. You're the most punctual person I know. Anyway, it doesn't matter. It'd be nice to see you around a little more. It's felt like every time I enter a room, you're just leaving."

Nicole gave a small, sad smile without making eye contact. She was certainly guilty of that.

"Maybe," Waverly suggested, "I could bring you a _good_ cappuccino sometime?"

Nicole had barely touched her coffee - it was bitter, the shot badly poured and the milk burnt. She nodded. "Sure, I'd like that. You always made the best coffee in town."

"I never offered to make it!" Waverly said playfully, but her smile didn't reach her eyes. Waverly went to run her fingers through her hair, discovered it was still trapped in the collar of her coat, and struggled a bit to pull it out.

Nicole couldn't help grinning. "Waverly, are you still wearing your winter coat because it's the middle of winter and you're wearing a crop top underneath it?"

Waverly blushed prettily and tugged the tail of her hair out of her coat. "I do own a sweater…" Her hair fell over her shoulder, the colour of winter prairie grass. Nicole's breath caught for a moment. God, a moment of flirtation and Waverly was playing her like a fiddle. It was time to cut loose.

"Listen, Waves… it was really nice to see you, but I have to go." She didn't. She wasn't working today, but she needed to get out of there before Waverly made her squirm any more than she already was.

"Okay. Um, it was really great to see you." Waverly dug in her purse for a handful of change to pay for her drink, and Nicole did the same. They left it on the table, Nicole pulling her coat and gloves back on, Waverly slipping her purse strap over her still-jacketed arm.

They walked out of the diner into the cold afternoon, the light already dimming, their breath coming in solid white puffs when it met the winter air. They stood facing each other.

"Bye," Waverly said, already shivering.

"Bye," Nicole echoed, and then wondered whether they'd hug. She wondered if she wanted to hug. Waverly moved closer, and stretched out her arms tentatively, and Nicole stepped back and stuck out an arm, and somehow they ended up shaking hands.

"Okay, I'll see you around," Waverly said. "Um… Nicole?"

Nicole was half-turned around already. "Yeah?"

"I'm sorry. You know, for… everything."

"Thank you."

"Bye." Waverly gave a little wave and turned away.

Nicole turned the other way and walked toward her car, willing herself not to look back and watch Waverly heading in the other direction. She let out a long, low breath. This would not be easy.


	3. An Unfurling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post-WayHaught breakup, Nicole and Waverly consider how to reconnect.

Nicole leaned back in her desk chair, her booted feet up on the space heater she kept under her desk. She kept it at a low hum all day long during the winter. She reviewed a report, taking her time, because today was one of those dead days at the station. No new cases, and the old cases didn't have much to offer. Purgatory had plenty of exciting days, but when things were slow, they were _slow._ Nedley had taken the morning off, so she was alone in the station.

She heard the bell of the front door opening and sat up, hoping for something - anything - to ease her boredom, but it was just the Black Badge group coming in. Wynonna, Dolls, and Waverly passed in front of her door, loud, wisecracking, excited about something. Waverly cast her a glance and an uncertain smile before walking past.

Nicole found her heart beating a little faster and shook her head at herself. She truly must be bored if she got excited by her sort-of-coworkers… no… _office-mates_ coming in to work. She returned to her report and popped her feet back up on the space heater, careful to avoid the superheated front grille. Her eyes scanned the page. Graffiti sprayed on the side of the gas station… Could be any of the delinquents in the damn town. She squinted at the blurry photo attached to the file. What did it say? B… O…

"Hey!"

Startled, Nicole jumped in her chair, kicking over her space heater under the desk.

"Oh my gosh, I am so sorry, I didn't mean to scare you." Waverly's voice was like a beam of light entering a dusty room. Nicole reached down to right her heater before it lit her stash of extra dry socks on fire and looked up at Waverly.

She stood on the other side of the counter. Her hair was twisted into braids with little pieces framing her face, earrings glinting on either side of her cheekbones. Her sternum, her collarbones, gently defined by the play of the overhead fluorescent lights, shone over the low collar of her blouse. In both hands, small and perfect and soft, fingers decorated with slender rings, was a coffee cup.

Nicole smiled, her teeth catching on her lower lip. "Is that the cappuccino you promised me?"

Waverly presented it with a flourish. "It is! I did some research. According to Jerry and Maria at the pawn shop _and_ Lee at the salon, this is the best cappuccino in town."

Nicole raised an eyebrow. "I've got to say, I do trust Maria. Okay, let's see." Nicole rounded her desk and crossed to the counter, slid the coffee closer, and pried off the lid. Indeed, the foam was consistent, with a ring of crema around the outside, a warm caramel in colour. It smelled divine. She was aware now how close she was to Waverly - separated only by the width of the high reception desk. She took a deep sip of the coffee, and felt the foam touch the tip of her nose.

Waverly stifled a giggle and reached out, stopping herself at the last moment from wiping the foam from Nicole's nose. "Um," she said, and Nicole used her sleeve to take care of it.

"So?" Waverly asked, looking at Nicole imploringly.

Nicole nodded, very pleased. "Yeah… this is next level. Where's it from?"

Waverly smiled mischievously. "Nope! That's my secret."

"What?!" Nicole was incredulous. "How am I supposed to enjoy Purgatory's best coffee if you don't even tell me which of our seven potential coffee places made it?"

"You'll just have to rely on me," Waverly said, hands on her hips.

Nicole smiled, knowing Waverly and knowing this was a way to keep them talking. It was sweet. "Thank you," she said, taking another sip, resolving not to resort to asking Waverly's sources herself unless she absolutely needed to - unless she felt like she was going to go crazy and burn Purgatory to the ground if she didn't get a decent coffee.

Waverly clasped her hands behind her back, cutely, said, "You're welcome," and marched out of the room, casting a smile over her shoulder.

Nicole sat back down at her desk to savour the coffee. Notes of cherry, raw cacao, just the right amount of bitterness…

***

"Someone's working hard today."

Nicole looked up from her computer screen. Her heater was only on low today; a freak winter melt, which people assured her was normal, had warmed the day to well above freezing. It was midmorning and she had a cold, congealed station coffee partially-finished on her desk, beside the dry remnants of a muffin.

Waverly stood at the counter again, her hair piled high on her head, a floral jacket on her shoulders. In her hands was the magic cup.

"Ahh, thank you!" Nicole said with a wide grin. "I couldn't even finish this terrible shit this morning. I was really hoping to see you."

Waverly raised an eyebrow. "Is that all I am to you? A coffee delivery machine?"

Nicole gave a small laugh. "If you'd tell me where you get it, I could look forward to seeing you for other reasons!" It was the closest she'd come to flirting since they'd broken up over a monthand a half ago. She'd found herself enjoying Waverly's company more and more, without feeling nervous or anxious at all. She just looked forward to each meeting. It reminded Nicole of how she'd felt about Waverly when she was new to Purgatory, when Waverly'd just been a beautiful fantasy.

She didn't tell Waverly that she'd figured out where the cappuccinos came from - a hidden espresso machine that the owner of the dry-cleaners, an old Italian man, kept in the back for his own use, and that of a few treasured friends and customers. Nicole knew the secret, but she wasn't part of the inner circle, so she knew only Waverly could get them for her. That, and she looked forward to these little visits far too much to jeopardize them.

Waverly leaned forward, her elbows on the counter, and pushed the coffee toward Nicole. Nicole grabbed it, sipped it casually, leaning on her side, looking down at Waverly.

"So," Waverly started, "We've been working on this case…"

Nicole sputtered a little into her coffee cup. "You're going to tell me what you're working on with Black Badge?"

Waverly smiled. "Yeah - well, we could really use your expertise, and besides, I bet you're so bored! Winter is such a slow time for crime in this climate."

It was true. Nobody wanted to go outside and cause trouble when it was thirty degrees below freezing. Except demons, witches, revenants, and other evil beings who cared more about ending the world than what the weather was like.

"So anyway, we've been working on this case. We think there's something fishy going on at that creepy ranch down on the old highway…"

***

Waverly wandered in to Nicole's office — in fact, office was a generous descriptor for the half-open reception space behind which Nicole had her desk — and leaned against the doorway, stifling a yawn behind her hand. Nicole looked up, saw her, and smiled in greeting. "Hey," Nicole said, and Waverly rubbed her eyes.

"Hey," she responded. She let out a tired sigh. "Sorry, we've been here since last night…"

"Jesus, seriously? I knew you were already here when I got in this morning, but - last night? Really?" Nicole glanced down at her desktop clock. "It's eleven already."

Waverly's jaw dropped. "It's eleven in the morning?" She ran her hands over her face. "Ugh, we've been here… what is that… seventeen hours now." She counted off the hours on her fingers. "Since just after six last night." She exhaled sharply, a tendril of hair moving in the breeze of her breath.

"Making any progress?" Nicole asked, and stepped out from behind her desk to lean on the counter nearer to Waverly.

Waverly shook her head. "No," she said, and then, "Well, in a way. We know a lot more about what we don't know now… and we've ruled a few things out." She quirked her mouth, and a great grumbling sounded from her middle. "Oh…" Waverly said softly. "I also don't think I've eaten since last night."

Nicole put her face in her hands. "Waves! Not again!"

"I _know_ …" Waverly said with a groan. "It's not my fault! Everyone else ordered pizza last night, but you know I don't eat pizza, and I didn't think there was time for me to go get my own thing… besides, you know that vegetarian restaurant is only open four days a week."

Nicole shook her head. "Yeah, I know, and it seems totally random, too." she said. Nicole glanced at the clock again, and then at her pile of papers, and made a decision. "Okay… are you sticking around?"

Waverly slumped against the doorframe. "Yeah, at least for a few more hours. We are so close. I've got seven books open in there. I just _know_ it'll be in one of them, and I've been through five, but…"

Nicole smiled. "Okay. I was going to go out anyway. Stay here." She came around the side of the reception counter and stopped in front of Waverly in the doorway, placing her hands on her upper arms, holding her there firmly. "You can do this. You are the smartest girl in this town. If anyone can solve a supernatural infestation through research, it's you." She smiled down at Waverly, who even with her tired eyes was breathtaking; even with her messy, half-fallen hair was the most beautiful woman in Purgatory. "I'll be back soon."

Waverly watched as Nicole left the station with a bounce in her step.

—

Twenty minutes later, the front door of the precinct jingled as Nicole returned, a plastic bag on either arm. She walked down the hall, past her usual doorway, all the way to the end where the Black Badge group worked. Turning the corner, she rapped lightly on the open door to announce her presence.

Four pairs of hollow, bagged eyes turned her way.

"Ooh, sorry," Nicole apologized as she peeked her head in. "Didn't mean to disturb."

Waverly jumped up from the table she'd been leaning over, where she'd been poring over a dusty old volume that looked like it'd fall apart if exposed to a gentle spring breeze. "No! It's okay!" Waverly chirped.

Wynonna glared, and Nicole got the distinct feeling that not everyone in the room agreed with Waverly that her interruption was okay. Nicole didn't really care.

Waverly met her at the doorway and Nicole pitched her voice a bit lower as everyone else went back to their work. "I brought you something," she said, holding out one of the bags. Waverly's eyes lit up.

Nicole handed it to her and took Waverly's elbow with her free arm, guiding her gently out of the room. "Let's just… go to the lunch room, where these stink-eyes can't follow us."

The tiny lunch room was set with a scarred wooden table and rickety schoolroom-style chairs, a bright beam of sunlight cutting sharply into the room from a small, high window. They put their bags on the table, and Nicole busied herself in the cupboards for a moment, grabbing a cup and a green tea bag. She filled it with hot water and plopped the fragrant, steaming beverage in front of Waverly, who had meanwhile opened the bag and pulled out the white lidded bowl within.

Waverly pulled off the top, closing her eyes to inhale. "Oh, my favourite," she said. "Hot and sour soup." She absorbed the smell of it for a few very still moments, and Nicole briefly wondered if she'd fallen asleep in the chair, before Waverly searched the bag for cutlery — chopsticks and one of those disposable soup spoons. She also found a tiny foil-topped packet of peanut butter.

Waverly's cheeks immediately flushed.

Nicole hadn't opened her own food yet, had instead been waiting to see Waverly's reaction, and she was not disappointed. She smiled and turned to her own bag, unpacking some thick noodles with stir fried vegetables, and several packets of extra soy sauce, as was her wont to add.

Waverly carefully opened the peanut butter packet, using the soup spoon to scoop out a dollop, which she carefully dropped into her soup. It was her guilty pleasure, her absolute favourite food, and only those closest to her knew it. She used her finger to scoop out the remnants of peanut butter that had stuck in the corners of the packet, licking it right off her fingertip, making sure that she got every bit of it. She stirred, letting the peanut butter melt in the hot liquid, before blowing on her soup and dipping her spoon in for the first sip. She spooned broth from the edges of the bowl, where it was coolest, and slurped it up noisily.

She had eaten maybe ten bites before she said anything. "This is divine. I didn't even realize how sapped I was until I tasted this," Waverly said between spoonfuls. Her cheeks were pink, with pleasure, and from the warmth of the soup. She took a sip of her tea, cooled now to a drinkable temperature. Then, quietly, "Thank you for remembering."

Nicole looked down and twisted a noodle on to her chopsticks, a smile playing on her lips. She let Waverly's words hang in the air for a moment before responding. "How could I forget?"

They ate mostly in silence until they both were finished, Nicole slurping up her last noodle, Waverly drinking the last few drops of broth from the rim of the bowl. They looked at each other. "Waves," Nicole said, and Waverly's breath caught. Nicole thought about saying something, about telling her she regretted breaking up with her, about how she should have been more patient — about how, compared to Waverly, no one else could hold a damn candle. But she didn't.

Instead, she reached across the table and, with her thumb, wiped a drop of soup from the corner of Waverly's mouth. Waverly turned her face toward Nicole's hand, and Nicole trailed her fingers along Waverly's jawline, then over her lips.

At that moment, Jeremy peeked his head in the doorframe. "We got it!" He exclaimed with a whoop, and Waverly jumped up, and Nicole looked up at her.

"I'm coming!" Waverly said, and then looked down at Nicole. "Thank you again," she said softly, and Nicole grinned.

"I owed it to you after those coffees you've been bringing me," she joked. Waverly smiled in answer, and left the room, trailing her hand across Nicole's shoulder on her way out, casting her a last glance before running down the hall to rejoin the group.

Nicole couldn't stifle her excitement; she could have pumped her fists in the air, could have cheered, could have run a damn marathon at that moment. Suddenly she knew exactly what she wanted, and realized it was what she had really wanted all along. Nicole felt a sudden drop in her stomach, a cold that belied the warmth of moments ago, as she hoped against hope that she hadn't screwed it up.


	4. Behind Locked Doors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Forced into a tight situation, Nicole and Waverly finally have an honest talk, in the midst of their simmering sexual chemistry.

It was late - at least midnight - and Nicole was working the night shift. Truth be told, she was dozing in her chair with a pile of paperwork in front of her, but the station door was locked, and her radio was turned up high enough that it’d wake her if anything happened. Normally, Nicole was not the type to slack off — she took her job, and its associated responsibilities, very seriously, and was proud to have been called “a good cop” by people who mattered. But with Jenkins off sick all week, and now Martinez, they’d been short-staffed. Nicole had been at work for 36 of the last 48 hours.

Still, she really should have been more alert, because Nicole had made a few enemies in her short time working in Purgatory. She took pride in being upstanding, in being fair, in championing the cause of the marginalized; unfortunately, this meant she sometimes stepped on the wrong toes when following her moral compass. She should have been vigilant. Instead, she was half asleep when she heard a rustling in the hallway. She bolted upright in her chair, heart pounding.

How had someone gotten into the station without her noticing? There was a bell _and_ a buzzer on the locked front door, and the back was heavily fortified. Had she imagined the noise?

No, there was a definite creak as a door opened down the hall. Nicole silently got to her feet and buckled on her gun belt, creeping across the room, pulling her firearm out and cocking it as silently as she could. She pulled her body against the inside of the doorframe and ventured a look out into the hall, pistol at the ready. The hallway was dark along its full length, interrupted only by a sliver of low-wattage light widening out from a closet about halfway down.

The records closet.

The Purgatory SD precinct kept its records in the basement - a dark, cold, dusty space with a long set of steep concrete stairs to approach, always kept locked up tight. It was a bit of a commitment to go down there, so Nedley had developed the rather unprofessional habit of keeping recent files - from the last year or so - in a lightly-locked converted broom closet on the main floor for easy access. It was poorly organized, files stacked in a variety of box sizes and shapes, sorted mostly by when they were last used rather than any official system. Because it hadn’t been designed to store files, it was a haphazard space, poorly lit and cramped, and Nicole had been meaning to reorganize it for ages. She knew where to find most of what she needed, because she was the one who had put it there, but judging by the shuffling sounds coming from the closet now, whoever was in there didn’t know their way around.

That meant it wasn’t another cop. Nicole felt her muscles tighten as she creeped forward, on high alert. She considered holstering her gun, but had second thoughts - this was a prairie town, after all, and almost everyone had a gun permit for hunting. Who knew if her intruder was armed?

She slowly advanced down the hallway, step by step, silently, toward the thin wedge of light escaping through the mostly-closed closet door. She stopped outside and took a deep breath, then rushed the door, pushing it open inward with her shoulder and levelling her gun at what she expected to be the intruder’s head.

“Oh my god!”

A box, which had been teetering on the edge of a high shelf, fell, and so did the intruder, who had climbed up on one of the bottom shelves to reach it. Nicole immediately pulled her gun hand back, trained for years to do so to prevent an accidental discharge.

“Oh my god!” Again, she shrieked as she fell onto Nicole, and Nicole fell against the door - the damn inward-opening door - and they ended up in a pile of files on the floor.

It was Waverly.

And now they were tangled on the floor of this too-small closet, and the door was closed behind them. The light was still on, hanging bare from the ceiling with a pull chain, casting the corners of the closet into deepest shadow.

“Owww, my hip,” Waverly groaned, wincing, and Nicole flipped the safety back on her gun, holstered it awkwardly, and climbed to her feet, holding out an arm to help Waverly up. The two of them stood, crowded together by the shelving, and the first thing Nicole did was test the doorknob. She jiggled it back and forth, but it didn’t budge.

She knew it’d be locked. She’d been locked into this room accidentally before, but it was usually just a matter of knocking and someone would come open it. They should have changed the hinges and made it open outward ages ago, but they hadn’t, and here they were.

“Are you okay?” She asked Waverly, concern knitting her brow.

“I think so,” Waverly said, still wincing a little, her hand rubbing her hip. “Thankfully this giant coat padded my fall… and so did you.” She looked up at Nicole, her lashes lit by the overhead light. “Are _you_ okay?”

Nicole was fine. She’d be a bit bruised, but fine. The main issue is that she was locked in a file closet with her ex-girlfriend, and she could already feel the temperature rising.

They stood no more than six inches apart, crowded in by the fully stacked shelves on each wall. She could smell Waverly’s shampoo; the fruity scent reminded her of long mornings spent in a pile of pillows, of pressing her lips to the back of Waverly’s neck in bed.

“We’re locked in,” Nicole said, her voice soft.

“Oh,” Waverly exhaled quietly, and she lowered her eyes, looking at Nicole’s mouth. Nicole was suddenly very aware of her lips, and of Waverly’s, and felt her breath catch. Waverly returned her gaze to Nicole’s eyes, and Nicole felt Waverly’s hand gently brush hers, electricity shooting up her arm, lighting up her entire body. Surprised, she pulled back sharply, hitting her elbow on the shelf behind her.

“Ow! Shit.” She grimaced, rubbing it with her other hand. Stupid. Waverly looked a little hurt at her recoil, and Nicole mentally kicked herself for reacting so awkwardly.

“We should call someone to let us out,” Nicole said, and patted her pockets with her hands, but didn’t find the telltale bulge of her mobile. “Do you have your phone?”

Waverly reached into the pocket of her oversized, fluffy, leopard print coat. “Yeah, I’ll call Wynonna. She’s definitely awake, I just saw her before I came here to find—“ she looked at the shelf, then at the floor where the files had fallen, and gestured at the pile spilled around their feet. “—that, I guess.”

Waverly dialed, avoiding Nicole’s face as she waited for her sister to pick up.

“Hey. Um, yeah, I think I found it, but Nicole surprised me in the records closet and… yeah, the door got stuck. We’re locked in… No. Please don’t take your time, just get here. Seriously, Wynonna. Okay. Thank you. See you soon.”

She hung up the phone and exhaled. Nicole felt Waverly’s breath across her lips and it tingled.

They were silent and still for a moment, Waverly’s gaze averted, her earrings swinging and catching the light. Then she spoke. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—“

“No,” Nicole interrupted. “It’s not— it’s not you.” She reached out and took Waverly’s hand in hers for just a moment before releasing it, and the electricity crackled through her again. She watched Waverly’s face, and saw a familiar look of determination cross her features.

“Let me talk,” Waverly protested. “I didn’t mean to be too forward. I just thought things’d been changing for us lately. A lot of the things you said when we broke up made sense, and I’ve been working on them. You know, I’ve been talking to someone about my feelings over Willa… her coming back and displacing me, and then her death — the relief I felt. My shame over feeling that way. I hadn’t been… dealing with it.”

Waverly paused for a moment and Nicole took a breath to speak, but Waverly held her hand up to stop her. “I’m not done. I also spent some time thinking about what I really want. Not what I’m supposed to want, or what I think others want for me, but who I am and what’s important to me. I’ve delved pretty deep. It’s been… it hasn’t been easy. My therapist --” she laughed a little, as if she was embarrassed to admit this, “-- says I’ve always spent so much time supporting the people around me and that part of it has been a way to run away from the hard stuff.”

“Waverly,” Nicole started, interrupting her. Waverly bit her lip and nodded, and Nicole took it as permission to speak. She sucked in a breath. “I want to apologize, actually. Sure, maybe some of what I said to you was true, but I think a big part of that was me trying to protect myself. I always give up on things so easily. I’m not strong like you. You stick with things, even if they’re hard. You support the people you love no matter what, even when it’s difficult. I’m just a coward.”

Nicole searched Waverly’s eyes. Waverly was shaking her head, as if to deny Nicole’s words, but Nicole spoke fiercely. “I gave up on things with you because I was afraid, Waverly. Because of me, _not_ because of you. Things were moving so quickly, and I was so afraid — that I’d screw it up? That you’d resent me? That I didn’t deserve you, and you’d figure it out? I was so afraid that I called it off and then…” Nicole swallowed, her cheeks burning with shame. “And then I made out like it was your issue, not mine. I’m so sorry.”

Waverly clasped Nicole’s hands in her own. “You don’t need to apologize to me. I think you were right. I needed to figure things out and I was dealing with too much. Maybe you could have been a little more patient with me, sure, but you made the right choice.”

Nicole shook her head and felt a stinging in her eyes. “No — I was stupid —“

Waverly pressed a finger against Nicole’s lips to shush her. “Nicole, I’m telling you that you were right. I wasn’t ready.” She gave Nicole a small reassuring smile, and continued. “I needed that time, to think about some things… I also needed to know if my attraction to you, my love for you—“ she looked up at Nicole, and Nicole felt her heart pounding in her chest, “—I wanted to know if it was a freak occurrence. You know, being attracted to a woman. Would it… fade? Would things change for me? I needed to figure that out. I was worried I was being unfair to you, leading you on.”

Waverly sighed. “But the last few weeks especially, when I’ve been running into you here almost every day, my heart has leapt every time. Your smile has been the light of my whole day. I get giddy thinking about running into you. It’s different from anything I’ve felt before.”

She took Nicole’s other hand in hers. Nicole marveled at the softness of Waverly’s hands, and her heart swelled to hear Waverly echo her feelings so exactly. Waverly went on. “Nicole, not only did my feelings for you _not_ fade… they got stronger. And stronger. I miss you, and I want to be with you again. If you’ll have me.”

Nicole’s heart, pounding its way out of her ribcage only moments before, felt like it had stopped completely. Waverly came close, bit her lip, looked back up at Nicole, and before Nicole knew what was happening, they were kissing. Her lips felt so familiar, the dart of her tongue so sweet. Nicole cupped Waverly’s jaw, stroking her cheek with a thumb, weaving her fingers through Waverly’s hair. They kissed, deeply and long, pressing into each other eagerly. Nicole kissed her harder, and Waverly let out a small whimper of desire, and suddenly their sweet kiss changed into something hungry.

Waverly’s arms tightened around Nicole’s neck, as Nicole’s hands traveled down her body. Nicole devoured her, gently tugging on Waverly’s lower lip with her teeth, holding her around her waist beneath her coat, bending her backwards. God, how she had wanted this. She felt Waverly’s breasts against hers as they kissed, and ran her hands up the small of her back, feeling the smooth skin beneath her shirt.

Dimly at the back of her mind, Nicole realized she had been avoiding this, that there was something she needed to come clean about before letting this happen again, but for several sweet moments she ignored that little voice. She ran her mouth down Waverly’s jawline, and Waverly pressed two fingers against her lips and she moaned, suddenly wanting her more than anything.

She sucked on Waverly’s fingertips and pushing her up against the shelving, sliding her uniformed thigh between Waverly’s legs, tucking it against the warmth she could feel there beneath her skirt. Waverly gasped at the pressure and ground her hips down into Nicole, her arms around Nicole’s neck.

Waverly let out another little whimper, and pressed her lips to Nicole’s ear, her hot breath sending shivers up Nicole’s spine. She whispered there, “God, I want you,” and Nicole knew she had to do it.

Nicole paused. She pulled back, pulled Waverly back up to standing. She was a bit dazed, by arousal, by the excitement of this, by the headiness of Waverly’s body, her scents and the feel of her skin, her lips. She knew that she needed to tell Waverly that she hadn’t just been waiting, and she knew that now was the time, before anything really happened. She wanted Waverly to make her choice with full understanding of Nicole’s feelings, and what had happened over the time they had been apart.

Waverly looked at her, confused. The sexual tension was buzzing in the tiny space. “What’s wrong?” She asked, searching Nicole’s face. Nicole looked down.

“I have to tell you something,” she started, and then stopped, unsure of how to phrase it. How much to say.

“What is it?” Waverly said, and she moved closer, and wrapped her arms around Nicole’s neck again.

“While we were broken up, I… I was pretty depressed for a bit, I was drinking a lot after work.” She rubbed her face, remembering a lot of foggy nights and morning headaches. “I spent a bit of time at Shorty’s, just out of… habit, I guess.”

Waverly still looked concerned. Nicole continued. “There was one night that I was pretty into it, and Rosita - you know, the bartender,” and Waverly nodded. “Well, she poured me a shot, and listened to my sob story a little. I guess she probably knew it was you, and that’s why I was so…” She grimaced; what was the word? Pathetic? Depressed? Pitiful?

Waverly’s brow knitted. Nicole went on in a rush, “One thing led to another and we ended up sleeping together. It was nothing—“ but Waverly had let her go, had flattened her back against the shelves, her face contorting.

“Waves! I’m sorry, we were broken up and I didn’t know — I thought it was done.” She was speaking quickly, the words falling out of her, jumbled and too loud. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t want to hurt you. I was trying to — no, there’s no excuse. It doesn’t matter.” Nicole’s eyes stung with tears as she saw the hurt in Waverly’s face.

“Was it good?” Waverly’s voice was husky, quiet. She wouldn’t meet Nicole’s eyes.

Nicole sputtered a bit. She didn’t want to lie. It was good. It had been great, and it had been different, which is what she’d wanted at the time. But it hadn’t been Waverly.

“Was she… was she better than me?” A tear rolled down Waverly’s cheek.

“No!” Nicole protested. “No, it was different, but nothing is like being with you. Waves, when I’m with you, my whole soul is with you.” She trailed off. Waverly was shaking her head, wordless, tears clinging to her lashes.

They were silent for a few moments, Waverly’s breath audibly shaky in the small space.

The sound of the lock turning made them both jump. Wynonna pushed the door in, crowding Nicole and Waverly into a corner together. Waverly pulled away and ran out the door as soon as it was open. She didn’t look back at Nicole, instead stalking off down the hallway toward the exit.

“Baby girl? What’s wrong?” Wynonna called after Waverly. Nicole shook her head, and Wynonna gave her a look that said _if you hurt her, I’ll kill you_. Nicole just looked down. Wynonna turned with a last glare and followed her sister.

Nicole exhaled, her body feeling like the shell of a bottomless pit, her heart at her knees. She was boneless, empty, and just stood, unmoving, until she heard the lock click in the door as the sisters left.

Finally, she bent down and started picking up the spilled files. As she kneeled on the concrete floor, a sob wracked her shoulders.


	5. Ghost Ships

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nicole deals with the fallout of having revealed her tryst with Rosita to Waverly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter all about feelings. Thanks again to my partner for helping me with this. I’m great at sex and angst, but her feedback is vital for these conversation-heavy chapters.

It was late morning, the sun obscured behind a layer of late winter clouds, when Nicole knocked on the locked front door of Shorty's. As she waited, she pulled her toque lower over her ears and steamed her breath into her gloved hands to warm up her face. It was still cold out, even this close to the equinox.

The deadbolt clicked and Rosita pulled the door open.

"Hi," she said, peering out at Nicole from the dim interior.

"Hi," Nicole returned awkwardly, an odd tightness constricting her chest at the sight of the dark-haired woman. It had been a while since she'd last seen Rosita. Nicole stood there, unsure what to do.

After a moment, Rosita asked, "Is there something I can help you with?"

Nicole kicked herself. "Sorry. I'm here about the call."

"Oh, from last night?" Rosita said, and pulled the door open all the way, standing aside to allow Nicole in, and closing it behind her. Nicole passed through the vestibule and the interior door, grateful for the heat of the bar after the deep chill outside. The lights were off, daylight filtering dimly through the windows, the rest of the room in shadow. Rosita hit a switch on the wall and lit up the potlights above the bar.

Nicole found herself thinking, quite suddenly, of the first day she'd met Waverly, right here in this spot. The light had been just like this.

Nicole removed her gloves and pulled a pad and pen out of her pocket. "I got the report this morning, and it said it wasn't urgent, but I thought I'd come by to talk to you." In truth, she'd felt nothing but dread since she saw the report on her desk, but she knew that she'd be better off getting it done and over with than agonizing about it all day.

Rosita slipped behind the bar and returned to her work, her back turned to Nicole, unpacking liquor bottles from a box as she described the incident from the night before. It was nothing out of the ordinary - some return customers who had caused trouble the last time they'd been in. Nicole took diligent notes, interjecting with questions where needed. They were soon finished.

"Okay, thank you," Nicole said. "If you think of anything else, give me a call." She almost reached into her pocket for a business card, but realized Rosita certainly had her number already.

Rosita stopped her work, turned to face Nicole, folded her hands on the bar. Nicole lingered a moment and then turned on her heel to go. She took a couple of steps toward the door before turning back to Rosita.

Rosita was still there, leaning on the bar, watching her.

"I wanted to apologize for never calling —" Nicole began.

"You don't have to do this," Rosita interrupted her.

"What?"

Rosita sighed. "I thought this was coming. It's okay, Nicole. It was just a fun thing we did. I didn't  _want_  you to call me. We fucked. It was great. I had fun. Did you have fun?"

Nicole stood still, a bit stunned, and a flush crept up her cheeks. "Um," she said, uselessly.

Rosita gave a devilish smile. "You had fun. It's okay, you don't have to say it out loud. And I'd be happy to have fun again, if you wanted to show up at my door in uniform at 3am, and I wasn't otherwise occupied." She punctuated this by looking Nicole up and down appraisingly. "But I did  _not_  need you to call me afterward."

Nicole nodded slowly, a bit of her guilt assuaged. She still felt heavy as a stone, numb and cold, but that had nothing to do with Rosita. "Thanks," she said weakly, and turned around to go again.

Rosita's voice stopped her. She spoke softly. "She was here, you know."

Nicole's heart thudded. "Who?" she asked, knowing already who Rosita meant.

"Waverly. At the bar. About four days ago."

Nicole felt her pulse speed up. She had told Waverly about her fling with Rosita almost two weeks ago now, and had heard nothing from her, hadn't seen a trace of her, since. But four days ago, she was here, in this bar. Nicole was suddenly so aware of the room, of every seat, every floorboard.

"I don't know what happened between you two," Rosita went on, "but it's clear she misses you as much as you miss her. She got here around 8:30…"

***

Waverly sat at the bar, alone, a tall gin and tonic in front of her. She stirred a wedge of lime into it, pushing it beneath the ice cubes with her straw, a frown tugging at her lips. It was her third drink; in the time she'd been there, the bar had gone from mostly-empty to busy-for-a-Tuesday. Behind her came the racket of billiards balls colliding, the hoots and hollers of young men betting at darts, the twang of a country-rock song. Waverly appeared to notice none of it.

She let out a sigh.

She slurped up the last few drops of her drink, and pushed the glass away, glancing casually around the bar.

"Hello, little darling," came a familiar drawl. Waverly looked up as Doc smiled at her from behind the bar, the ends of his moustache turning up.

"Hi Doc," she replied, smiling back at him unconvincingly. He gestured to her empty glass. Waverly nodded an affirmative, and he began the motions of making her another. As he did, he noticed Waverly's eyes flick over to the other bartender. Doc followed her gaze over his shoulder at Rosita, who was pouring a beer and chatting with another customer on the other side of the bar, her ponytail swinging as she laughed.

"So," he said, bring Waverly's attention back to him, as he poured tonic with a flourish. "What brings you here all alone on this cold night?"

Waverly looked decidedly miserable. "Just out for a drink, Doc," she said. She took the drink he passed over to her, popped the lime off the rim with a finger, and started pushing it around in the glass with her straw. And then she looked over at Rosita again.

Doc gave a knowing nod and ran a hand through his hair. "Now, I may not be the most observant man in the world, but I could not help but notice that you haven't been quite yourself lately."

"Not sure what you mean," she replied, not meeting his eyes.

"All I mean is that our sweet, cheerful little Waverly has been a bit like a rain cloud lately," he said, kindly, leaning forward across the bar. "'Tis your right to be sad, but I have to say I've missed your smiles."

She just shrugged, and looked, sullenly, over to Rosita again. With a sigh and an "Excuse me, Waverly," that she barely noticed, Doc stepped back and put a hand on Rosita's arm to get her attention. Waverly pointedly averted her gaze, suddenly feigning intense interest in the grain of the bar.

She looked up when she heard the heavy clink of glass on the bar.

"Hi," Rosita said, and uncapped a bottle of whiskey to fill two shot glasses.

"Hi," Waverly responded, flustered. "What's this?"

"Jameson," Rosita responded, carefully pouring to the brim of the second glass.

Waverly smiled weakly and raised her glass. Rosita clinked hers against Waverly's, and tipped it down her throat. Waverly sniffed the whiskey. "Smells like a hangover," she said, and followed suit. She made a face as the cheap whiskey burned its way down her throat.

"It's good for what ails you," Rosita shrugged in response.

"It's a good tactic," Waverly said approvingly. "I never took any customers home when I did this," she said, gesturing at the bar to indicate that by  _this,_  she meant bartending. "But I bet it works."

Rosita raised her eyebrows. "What works?"

"Oh, pouring out shots and flirting over them." Waverly said with a sardonic smile. "Of course, I was dating Champ when I worked here… but nobody tantalizing ever came in anyway."

Rosita laughed. "Well, I have to admit that Purgatory doesn't have a huge supply of cute, single people just waiting for a hot bartender to do shots with. All-in-all, I'd say it's a pretty pathetic selection, actually."

Waverly winced, and after a moment, admitted it. "I know about you and Nicole."

"Ahh," Rosita exhaled, understanding. "So she told you?"

Waverly nodded, running her fingertip around the wet rim of her shot glass. "Enough, anyway."

"Does this mean you two are reconciling?" Rosita asked.

Waverly shook her head sadly. "I don't know about that," she said, and tapped on her shot glass, raising a brow inquiringly at Rosita. "Another?" she asked.

Rosita gave a half-shrug and a smile. "You're always surprising me, Waverly." She poured them another round of whiskey and held her glass up.

"To love." Waverly said in way of a toast. "Or not." They clinked their glasses together for a second time and drank down the liquor.

Waverly sighed. "I know it happened, but something in me just wants to know more. I don't know why."

Rosita nodded kindly at her, and leaned down. "There's not much to tell, really," she said. "Nicole was drinking here a lot right after you two broke up. She was obviously having a hard time… I got the impression that she was just trying to use up the hours between work and sleep. You know what I mean."

Waverly nodded; she'd been a bartender for long enough that she clearly understood how to read those sorts of things too. Rosita went on. "That night, she sat over there—" she pointed to a barstool on the other side of the bar. "—I think, anyway. She drank a bit too much, and I tried to cut her off, but…"

Rosita had trailed off. Waverly looked at her intently, and Rosita knew she had to go on. "She turned those dimples on me, and something clicked, and that was it." She sighed, resigned to finishing the story. "We went back to my place. I left before she woke up. That was it. I didn't hear from her again."

Waverly's cheeks were splotched red and her mouth was a firm line. She nodded stiffly. "Thank you," she said to Rosita, and exhaled, looking miserable.

"At first I was so freaking pissed at you," Waverly admitted. "I felt so betrayed. But… we were broken up, and besides, it wasn't your responsibility to look out for my feelings."

Rosita admitted that was true.

"And you are so pretty," Waverly started. "So super pretty and hot and fun. And flirty."

Rosita shook her head, not wanting to go down that road. "I don't think —" she started.

Waverly didn't appear to hear her. "I totally get it. And your outfits are  _great_. I see why she did it. Hell, I'd do it." Waverly jabbed a finger through the air at Rosita. "You are a  _hell_  of a woman."

Rosita was beginning to get the impression that Waverly was quite drunk. The two shots probably hadn't helped. "Waverly," she said, and Waverly looked up at her. "Don't let me tell you how to live, but it sounds like maybe you aren't ready to let this one go."

Waverly slumped down onto the bar and let out a miserable moan. "I don't know," she groaned. "I just don't know." She drew out the last vowel, her cheek on the bar top.

Rosita was at a loss as to how to respond. She looked around for assistance, hoping Doc could swoop in, but he was nowhere to be found. She'd had to deal with drunk, sad-sack patrons plenty of times, but very rarely were they her acquaintance-sort-of-friends whose estranged beloveds she'd taken to bed.

She was saved as the door to the bar flew open and Wynonna stalked in, her winter coat billowing behind her. Doc must have called her to come pick up her sister.

"Alright, baby girl," Wynonna said, coming up behind Waverly and grabbing her by the shoulder, hauling her up. Waverly flapped her hands at her sister ineffectually, and Wynonna took a long sniff. "Oh, god, Waves - you smell like a distillery."

"I've only had three drinks!" Waverly protested, and Wynonna looked over at Rosita, who silently mouthed  _six_  at her, holding up six fingers in illustration.

Wynonna shook her head, her mouth grim. "I'm taking you home. Come on, don't make me throw you over my shoulder." She held Waverly's coat up and slipped it on to her uncooperative shoulders. "So help me god, Waverly Earp, I  _will_  do it."

***

It was two days later when Nicole spoke to Wynonna for the first time since Wynonna had rescued them from the records closet. She was sitting at her desk in the precinct, still wracking her brain for a way to communicate her feelings to Waverly - flowers? Too cheesy. A text? Too casual. A note? Maybe, but it felt a bit creepy.

Wynonna cleared her throat in the doorway.

"Hey," Nicole said.

"Hey yourself," Wynonna responded. "How've you been?" She didn't wait for a response. "Listen, Haught, I wanted to tell you that I'm not mad at you." Wynonna dropped into a chair across the desk from Nicole.

"You're not?" Nicole was surprised.

"Well," Wynonna hedged, "I'm not  _not_  mad at you, but I'm a lot  _less_  mad than I was." She tapped her fingers on Nicole's desk. "Last week I would've gladly hung you as a hunting trophy on my living room wall."

Nicole grimaced at the image.

Wynonna went on. "The thing is… Waverly loves you."

Nicole's heart sang to hear it, but she carefully kept a neutral expression on her face as Wynonna continued.

"Honestly, you've acted like a complete fucking idiot through this whole thing." Nicole cocked her head, thought about it, and nodded, accepting the insult. "But I kind of get why you did what you did. Hell, I've made worse mistakes in the last three hours."

Nicole smiled wanly. Wynonna was not one to soften a blow. She was happy to hear that her friendship with Wynonna — easily one of the most treasured relationships she'd built in Purgatory — looked like it might survive this tumultuous time.

"And now the one being a stupid idiot is Waverly." Wynonna wheeled her chair closer to Nicole's desk, pulled open the desk drawer, and grabbed Nicole's polishing cloth from within. Nicole gave her an incredulous look as Wynonna unholstered Peacemaker and started to polish its barrel as she spoke.

"She loves you, but she's so proud. You have to be patient. She has to make her own decision, when she's ready. But trust me —" Wynonna paused to huff on the gun, using the steam of her breath to polish the metal. "—if you're willing to wait, she will come to you."

Nicole sat back in her chair and ran her hand over the crest of her once-familiar French braid. "You think so?"

"I know you'll scare her off if you push her," Wynonna said. "Waverly's just solidified her independence. You can't threaten it now. If she gets a whiff of you trying to control if and when she comes back to you, you'll lose her for good."

Nicole nodded, her face thoughtful. Wynonna was more insightful than she would have expected — at least when it came to her own sister.

"I'll wait as long as she needs me to," Nicole said, and Wynonna smiled at her.

"That's what I wanted to hear."


	6. Sublimation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nicole considers her future in Purgatory as spring arrives on the prairies.

The morning dawned unseasonably warm, sunlight slicing through Nicole's windows to illuminate her dusty apartment. Nicole had made a recent habit of sleeping in on her days off, which was typically unlike her, but this morning she had woken in better spirits than usual. She'd risen early, put her stovetop espresso maker on, and had cleaned up her neglected home. It felt good to wipe, sweep, dust, organize. It felt like the hard crust of old snow long-frozen over her life was finally melting.

Freshly showered, Nicole sat in front of the window, coffee in hand, as she let her hair dry in the sun. Outside, the town was bustling; Nicole's second-storey window looked down on a busy street, and she watched a woman carrying grocery bags, her kids in tow, laughing and playing in the slushy puddles. The sun glinted off the road, the fractured asphalt wet with melting frost.

Purgatory. This town had charmed her unexpectedly. She found herself thinking of it as  _home_. Even with all its flaws — the weather, for one, not to mention the demonic neighbours — it still felt more like home than any place she'd ever lived. Her parents had moved a lot when she was growing up, and Nicole hadn't had a lot of chances to settle in. Every time she started to feel safe somewhere, they'd uprooted her again.

She wondered, briefly, if this had anything to do with her uneasiness around commitment. She sipped her coffee and admitted that it probably did.

But life with the Purgatory Sheriff's Department, Black Badge, the Earp sisters — it had the feeling of family. Even now, with Waverly avoiding her, she still felt like she was a part of things. She knew, suddenly, that she was in it for the long haul here.

The knock at her door took her by surprise.

She put her coffee down and made her way barefoot to the door, peering through the peephole. Her heart pounded when she recognized Waverly on the other side, honey-coloured hair cascading over her shoulders, her features otherwise warped by the lens.

Nicole's hand shook as she slid the chain and unlocked the deadbolt before turning the knob.

"Hi," she greeted Waverly.

"Hi," Waverly returned. "Can I come in?"

Nicole stepped back and opened the door wide. "Yes. Of course." She could feel her heart pounding in her chest.

Waverly stepped through the door and looked around. Nicole was breathless at the sight of her. She was dressed simply, for Waverly, in snug high-waisted jeans and a warm coat hanging open over one of her midriff-baring tops. She stood in her wet boots on Nicole's doormat, closing the door behind her.

With a chirp, the cat jumped down from Nicole's windowsill, padded over, and rubbed herself on Waverly's legs. Waverly reached down to scratch her head. "It's nice to see you, kitty," she greeted the cat affectionately. The cat responded by pushing her head more insistently against Waverly's hand. They took a moment to get reacquainted, the cat purring loudly as Waverly scratched under her chin.

Finally, straightening up, Waverly looked at Nicole and said, "It's nice to see you, too."

Nicole realized she'd just been watching Waverly, silent, dumbfounded, still, until Waverly had broken the spell by speaking. "You too," she responded. "And it looks like I'm not the only one who missed you." Nicole stroked the cat's back as she brushed past on her way back to the sunny windowsill.

Waverly clasped her hands in front and swung back and forth a little, nervous. "So… do you mind if I stay for a minute? I wanted to talk to you, and I was wondering if now was a good time." There was a question in her voice, as if she was asking-without-asking,  _do you want me here?_

Nicole's face brightened with a smile, as she felt her uneasiness subside; she gestured to the living room, to her couch. "Please." She was suddenly very happy she'd cleaned her apartment and showered already that morning. Her hair was still damp and she knew it had frizzed up in the warmth of the sun streaming through her windows; she self-consciously ran a hand through it. "Can I make you some tea?"

"Actually… that'd be amazing," Waverly said with a sigh. "We were all out at the homestead."

Waverly kicked her boots off on the doormat, shrugged off her coat, and made her way into the living room, chattering casually about things at home, as Nicole went about putting on the kettle. She still had a stash of Waverly's favourite tea in her cupboard, and she pulled it out now.

When Nicole stepped into the living room, steaming mug of tea in hand, Waverly was curled up on the couch with her legs beneath her, a framed photo in her hands.

"You still have this out," she said quietly, and looked up at Nicole. It was a Polaroid photo of the two of them, laughing, their arms around each other, the camera clearly held out in Waverly's extended arm. The photo was crooked and a bit blurry. They looked happy.

"Yeah," Nicole responded softly. "Of course."

Waverly smiled down at it and placed it carefully back on the rickety side table. Nicole still hadn't invested in decent, long-term furniture, but with her epiphany about Purgatory that morning, she thought she might do so soon. She had an irrational fantasy about asking Waverly to go furniture shopping with her before giving herself a mental kick.

Nicole handed Waverly the hot mug and sat down beside her. It wasn't much of a couch — really, an old loveseat with sagging cushions — but it was comfortable in the way that only old, broken-in things can be.

After a moment of almost-comfortable silence, Nicole said, "So."

Waverly glanced over at her, holding her mug with both hands. "So?"

"So you're here," Nicole prompted.

"I am," Waverly breathed out. "I am here."

Nicole waited.

Waverly fidgeted a bit, running her thumb over the handle of the mug, and then turned her body to face Nicole. She put the mug down and looked Nicole in the eyes.

"I am here because I've spent the last few weeks thinking." Her mouth tightened, like it did when she was determined, and Nicole felt a pang. Waverly's eyes took on a fierceness as she continued. "I was so ready to be with you again, after everything we'd been through, all the — processing or whatever you call it. I'd made up my mind. And then I found out about this whole Rosita thing —" she paused for a moment and blushed, averting her eyes. "And I was so  _angry_ at you."

Nicole looked down guiltily. At the time, it'd seemed like a grand idea. If Nicole had known then how she'd feel now, she never would have done it. It was a tactic she'd used in other breakups — sleep with someone else and simultaneously forget about your ex while also potentially ruining your chances to get back into a relationship with them. She hadn't banked on everything changing like this. Nicole felt her face crumple, her heart sinking as she was consumed with anger, guilt, shame for her stupidity.

She was surprised when Waverly grasped her hand. Nicole looked back up at her, her eyes tearful, and Waverly smiled reassuringly.

She continued. "After I'd been moping around the house for way too long, and after she'd hauled me home from making an ass of myself at Shorty's, Wynonna talked some sense into me. Um… what she actually said was, 'don't pull a Ross and Rachel from  _Friends_?'"

Nicole gave a small, choked laugh — Waverly was just a little too young to have watched that show. Come to think of it, she was surprised Wynonna had found time to watch a TV sitcom, from what Nicole knew of her teenage years, but she wasn't about to question any assistance offered by the older Earp sister.

Nicole shook her head, and took a deep breath. "I'm so sorry for hurting you, Waverly. If I could take it back, I would."

"No… we were broken up. And I don't own you." Waverly looked glum for a moment. "I know I said this before, but this breakup might have been the best thing that could've happened to me."

Waverly still had Nicole's hand in hers. Nicole was so conscious of the contact between them. Now, Waverly gripped her hand tight. "I don't want to lose my chance at the best thing I've ever had just because I'm being stubborn and prideful. But I need to know for sure that you're on the same page as me." She took a shaky breath. "So. Are you?"

Nicole squeezed Waverly's hand back, and took a moment to compose her thoughts.

"Waverly. If I never see you again after today, I will compare every woman I ever meet to you, and every woman will come up lacking. I know I've been… difficult to be with at times. I've got my own demons. But I promise, here and now, to try my hardest. I am willing to put in the work to be the woman you deserve, if you'll give me a chance."

Nicole took a breath, and looked at Waverly levelly. The air felt serious, but tense, crackling with energy.

They were silent for a few moments, hands held lightly between them, Waverly's gaze holding Nicole's, months of distance hanging in the air between them.

Waverly spoke softly. "Okay," she said.

Nicole's heart skipped a beat. "Okay?"

"Okay, I'll give you a chance," Waverly repeated, looking down at where their hands came together.

Nicole felt her whole body prickle and light up, her heart singing. She was elated. Waverly looked at her shyly, and bit her lip in the way that she did when she wanted to be kissed. Nicole leaned forward, but only made it halfway before Waverly pushed forward into her, hands on her jaw, and kissed her soundly. Their bodies came together clumsily at first, elbows and noses crashing together, until Waverly clambered on top of Nicole on the small couch, straddling her and deepening their kiss.

It felt incredible. It felt perfect and right, to be kissing again, to be able to surrender so wholly to the joy of it. Nicole circled her hands around Waverly's tiny waist, pulled her closer and parted her lips to Waverly's tongue. Waverly took the reins, kissing Nicole's jaw, her cheekbones, her dimples as she laughed. Waverly kissed down her neck, her throat, to the delicate bones exposed by her open-collared button-down shirt.

Nicole's hands meanwhile roamed Waverly, palms cupping all of the unforgotten curves: her shoulderblades, the indent of her waist, her hips. Down, then, to the backs of her athletic thighs, the roundness of her ass. Nicole delighted in the feel of her, her hands firm on Waverly's body.

Nicole's shirt came off, deftly unbuttoned, as Waverly trailed kisses down Nicole's torso. Nicole groaned as Waverly kissed her hipbone, grazing her teeth on it. They lingered here for a moment, Waverly's breath hot on Nicole's skin, her fingers dancing lightly over Nicole's ribs, goosebumps rising in their wake.

The tension was too much; they both felt impatient, that the need to get lost in each other was too urgent to wait. Nicole arched her back to allow Waverly to unhook her bra, and then again as her pants slid down off her hips. Before long, they tumbled off the too-small couch to roll on the rug in a spot of sunlight pooling in the floor.

Nicole's legs parted as Waverly shouldered between them, her mouth warm on Nicole's thigh. Waverly teased her, taking her time, brushing close to her, her hands on Nicole's hips. Nicole shuddered with sudden heat as she felt Waverly give in to her desire, administering little flicks of pleasure that sent jolts down to Nicole's toes, to her fingertips. The rug was rough against her back as she pressed against it, raising her hips toward Waverly. Nicole curled her fists and bit down on her lip as Waverly pushed inside her to her very core. As her pleasure peaked, her thighs quivered and shook, clamped against Waverly's cheeks. Nicole made small satisfied sounds as her climax subsided, her body falling limp.

Still clothed, but her hair a tangled mess, Waverly lay her head against Nicole's hip and slowly withdrew, resting a moment like that until they both caught their breath. Nicole's skin was damp, glowing in the warm square of sunlight; Waverly moved up and curled her body around Nicole's. They dozed there, on the floor, Nicole shivering with aftershocks.

Eventually, Nicole turned her head and found Waverly's ear with her lips.

"I love you, Waverly Earp," she whispered, and she felt a shiver pass through Waverly's body. She kissed Waverly's earlobe, her neck, her shoulder, and repeated it each time. "I love you, I love you, I love you," she murmured into her skin, her words muffled.

Nicole's fingers found the hem of Waverly's shirt and snaked beneath it. She kissed her, softly, everywhere she could find exposed skin, and then pushed Waverly's shirt up and exposed more. They made love again, still on the floor, Nicole rocking her thigh between Waverly's, her hand pushed between their bodies, urgent and deep.

In the afterglow, they both felt a chill and pulled each other hand-in-hand to Nicole's freshly-made bed, where they cuddled close, and where Waverly finally said it back.

"I love you, Nicole Haught," she said, and smiled, and kissed the tip of Nicole's nose.

Nicole traced a line of light on Waverly's shoulder with her fingertip, lazy and content. After some time, the cat jumped on the bed and, after a thorough investigation, curled up at their feet, her warmth and weight pressing into their entwined calves.

"I'm staying in Purgatory," Nicole said, her lips against Waverly's shoulder. "I decided this morning, before you got here."

Waverly rolled over to look at Nicole, and propped herself up on one elbow. "You mean, for good?"

Nicole gave a half-shrug and smiled, her hands back on Waverly's body. She couldn't stop touching her; the tactile sensation helped ground her, helped convince her this wasn't a dream.

"Yeah, I think I'll take the job Nedley offered me." She pulled Waverly close again, by the hips, and kissed her deeply. "And I was wondering… would you go furniture shopping with me?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much for spending your time reading this. This was a wonderful exercise for long-atrophied writing muscles, and I hope to write more, if I can find the inspiration. I appreciate all of your feedback.
> 
> As I finish this sixth and final chapter, we are between the airing of 208 and 209, and Waverly and Nicole's relationship is looking quite rocky at the moment. Here's hoping they can find their way back to each other again.
> 
> \- WW


End file.
